Make a Success of It
by eclecticxdetour
Summary: WINCEST of the SamDean Persuasion Rated M for Language SUMMARY: Sam and Dean are settled down and celebrate Sam's 50th.


**Warnings**: future!fic, schmoop

**A/N**: This was written for the **samdean_otp** comment fic meme. Specifically for **maerhys**'s prompt _I'd love to see them in their 50s or 60s and still super in love and happy together. Hunting, settled down, combo, whatever works.

* * *

_Nobody ever lasted long in their line of work. You couldn't always watch your back and you definitely couldn't count on anyone else to, either. But Sam and Dean, they always had each other to fall back on. Well, each other and Bobby Singer.

So when Sam turned fifty they were all three surprised. Dean never expected to live past thirty-five; wasn't sure he _wanted_ to because he wasn't sure he could handle saving people and hunting things so late in the game.

They were still hunting, though. No actual field work, but they would do research for any hunters that needed a little of their Winchester Wisdom. There wasn't anything they _hadn't_ seen, and with all the practice Sam had gotten throughout the years at hitting the books and his knowledge on how to take the evil-sons-of-bitches out, any hunter that came to them was in good hands.

They were working on a case-file on Sam's fiftieth. They'd just settled into their new place a few months earlier; couldn't stay in one place for fear of the law getting involved.

Dean had caught wind of some electrical storms in Arkansas and figured they should look into it. He and Sam had looked at the signs and did their research, figured out that there was in fact some demonic activity going down. They put all the info they had into a folder and called up one of the hunters they knew could handle the job.

She had gladly accepted it; told them she was itching for a new gig. She swung by their place later that afternoon, smiled at the love she saw between them when they answered the door before taking the file with a thanks and then heading out.

Dean had settled on the couch with Sam after they'd given Max the information, holding his arm up so that Sam could slide in against his side. He narrowed his eyes at Sam when his brother's hand settled on the slight pudge of his stomach. The only thing he hated about not hunting was the fact that he wasn't motivated to train, muscles of his abdomen not as defined as they had been when they were hunting.

Sam didn't mind, though. He loved the fact that his big brother had softened with age. He patted Dean's stomach over his t-shirt and grinned up at him.

Dean rolled his eyes and pressed his fingers into the strong muscle of Sam's thigh through his jeans. He smirked when Sam laughed, tilting his head up so he could catch Sam's mouth. "Yeah, yeah."

"You know I don't care. Love you even more now. Makes you more real, I guess," chuckled Sam, humming when Dean pressed his tongue between his lips.

"Just because _you're_ still ripped," moaned Dean teasingly, curling his fingers over the muscle of Sam's thigh again and squeezing.

"Hey, didn't say you had to stop training when we stopped hunting."

"Whatever, I get enough exercise with you," said Dean slowly, smiling when Sam finally _got_ it.

"Yeah you do," laughed Sam, leaning down and pressing their mouths together again. He grinned against Dean's lips when Dean tightened his arm around his shoulders, tugging at him until he was straddled over Dean's lap.

"Happy fiftieth old man," laughed Dean, locking his arms around Sam's waist when Sam hugged him.

"Been a long time comin'."

"Definitely deserve it. _We_ do."

"Yeah," sighed Sam, kissing Dean's neck before he climbed off of his brother's lap. "So…" he said, "what're you makin' me for my special birthday dinner, huh?"

"Your favorite."

"Hm…so you ordered Thai, huh?"

"…yeah," laughed Dean, "it should be here in a little while. Always seems to come quickly whenever we order."

"That's 'cuz I tip so nicely," said Sam, getting up from the couch with a groan, joints popping when he shook out his legs. "Beer?" he asked, turning toward the kitchen and laughing when Dean dragged him back down on the couch.

"It's _your_ birthday, I'll get the beer," said Dean, groaning as he slowly hefted himself up from the couch. "Should I get plates, too?"

"Don't like eating out of the little cartons," replied Sam in answer.

"Plates, too, then," muttered Dean, grabbing two beers in his one hand and balancing the plates and utensils on the other.

"Food's here," said Sam, going to the front door when the doorbell rang, letting Dean pop open their beers and set out the plates while he did so.

He smiled when he made his way back into the living room, lights dimmed and a couple candles lit on the table. "You didn't have to," he laughed, adoring gaze aimed at Dean when Dean shrugged and flushed.

"Yeah I did," said Dean quietly, opening up the little containers of food and dishing it out for them. He took a sip of his beer and watched Sam happily eat his dinner, glad that his little brother was enjoying himself.

They talked about the case in Arkansas while they ate their dinner, poking at each other's plates while they talked. Their conversation died out pretty quickly, both happy just to be spending their time with one another, sharing their favorite food.

Dean groaned contentedly when he finished his food, patting his belly and smiling when Sam let out a belch. "Gross."

"Like you didn't burp twelve times _while_ you were eating," said Sam, teasingly rolling his eyes before poking Dean in the stomach.

He pressed his little brother's hand against his stomach and covered it with his own, smiling when Sam hummed happily. They sat like that for a few moments before he pressed his mouth against Sam's forehead, eyes crinkling at the corners when Sam smiled up at him. "I'm gonna get this cleaned up. Got dessert, too."

"Man, I am _too _stuffed," moaned Sam, letting Dean up so he could clear the coffee table.

"Huh, I remember hearing _that_ from you before," teased Dean, winking at his younger brother before taking the dishes into the kitchen.

"Fuck you!" laughed Sam, "that was like _thirty_ years ago."

"Mm, and you _still_ fuckin' love it when I stuff you," laughed Dean, grabbing the box out of the refrigerator and taking it into the living room.

"I don't even know _why_ I put up with you," said Sam fondly, curiously eying the box Dean set on the table.

"Because I am awesome and have cake for you."

"Did Bobby send it?" asked Sam with a laugh, smiling wide when Dean quirked a brow at him; like after thirty years Dean'd magically been able to bake a decent cake and put it in a box for him.

"Yeah. Think it's yellow cake with strawberry cream filling," answered Dean before opening it, quickly plating a piece. He caught a little chunk on his fork, sure to get cake _and_ filling before he held it up for his little brother.

Sam laughed and opened his mouth, eyes closing when he wrapped his lips around the fork, licking the cake off of the utensil as Dean pulled it out of his mouth.

"Mm," he hummed, catching Dean's gaze as he caught his big brother's mouth, smiling when Dean licked some of the cake out of his mouth.

"Mm, good cake."

Sam just smiled and pressed their mouths together once more.


End file.
